The Blue Van
By Jason Aaron Fox
Smashwords Edition | Copyright 2011 Jason Aaron Fox
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Disclaimer:
All characters appearing in this work are fictitious. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental. The fictitious events portrayed in this book should not be construed in any way as a literal account of any individual life, especially the author. By reading this book you agree to the terms of this disclaimer.
CHAPTER 1: HENRY'S TRIP TO HAPPY LAND
The motherfuckers took my shoes. I am stuck in this damn mental ward wearing a pathetic piece of cloth and having to express my "feelings." I've tried talking to James and all he wants to do is sit in the corner and read his Bible. Thirty minutes till "group time."
The pathetic fucking whore is sitting next to me again. Apparently basic training was just "so hard" for her that she couldn't handle it. I've been talking to her for less than 50 minutes and I already know where this slut is from, who she last fucked, and what she's into in a man. How pathetic can a person be that even in a mental ward they will give up all their personal information for a little bit of attention? I hate pieces of shit like this. This bitch has no idea what a worthless piece of meat she really is.
It's group time again and I have to sit here and pretend I have feelings. James is a blubbering idiot. He keeps whining about how bad he feels about everything we've done. The pathetic trash leading the group discussion today warned me last time not to manipulate people or they would have to "isolate" me for the safety of others. I wonder how much I can get away with today?
Quite a bit apparently, that's what I can get away with! The crying little lamb with bipolar was my target today. I started asking her about her boyfriend, rock of her little life, and asking her to share her "feelings" with everyone. I got about halfway through convincing her what a pathetic halfwit she was before they caught on and started to target me; had to turn it around and tell her that it's "you should never blame yourself for feeling, it's a good thing and that her boyfriend will always love her." I think I almost vomited as I choked out the words.
I
think James actually felt bad for these pathetic people. As far as
I'm concerned we were the only two superior humans in this room; at
least we had the intelligence to know that what was wrong with us
wasn't an accident.
I can't wait till this shit is over with. All
I want to do is go back to our room and rest again. At least they
gave us a room to ourselves; apparently I'm considered too violent to
be allowed near someone other than my brother while they sleep. To be
honest with you, it feels good to be feared.
Another night I look outside at the stars and wait till I'm free from this place and can do what I want to again. At least we're back in our room. I need the pleasure of torturing someone again. I need those sweet drips of honey from their eyes to keep me going; I need to feel whole inside again. I can't wait to get out of here.
My brother finally lifted his head from that book and began to talk to me again. "How did we end up here Henry?" All I could say was "I don't know." No one had ever caught us before and we had never been unable to handle the mess we'd created.
If James hadn't reached out to that damn psychologist for help, maybe none of this would have happened. We could handle this ourselves, we had been dealing with each other for years now. "I just want to go home, I'm so tired of being here in this mess, my arm hurts and we haven't seen our family in years." said James. I responded "I know, but what do you want me to do about it? We were both doing good until you got hurt, and I wasn't willing to just leave you behind. We entered the military together, and we're staying together."
Our entire lives James had always gone to me when he had a problem, and I helped him solve it. This was the first time that there was someone else there to referee between us. To be entirely honest with you I was pissed off; it was getting harder to get my way when someone was there to help my brother understand that he didn't have to be pathetic. Tomorrow we had individual therapy and group therapy. The thing that pisses me off most about this is that I can't be in the room when they talk to my pathetic brother.
Another nurse woke me up this morning; nothing like having your blood pressure and vitals checked every morning. I wonder what this idiot would do if she came in here and found me under my sheet with my gown wrapped around my neck? I would love to do that.
I got the pleasure of being the first one in individual therapy this morning. One room, five doctors, and little ole me. The basic round of questions came first, "age, name, rank, tell me about your family, what brought you here today, etc...?" Is it odd that I enjoyed saying "death threats?"
I was wondering when they were actually going to get to something interested when they finally asked me about my relationship history. That was something I took a certain amount of pride in. "What was your most recent relationship?" they asked. "A worthless girl named Angelica," was my response. "I really enjoyed her, and wish it had lasted longer. She was easy to control, and did whatever I wanted."
They asked me what I did with her, and why I was in that relationship. I started dating Angelica right after my brother was left by his wife. The girls were best friends, and I knew it would piss off James' wife. Nothing like your best friend screwing your ex husbands' twin brother to piss you off. The little whore was so depressed when I found her; fat, ugly, and sick. I took so much pleasure in the hunt for her that I almost considered it too easy.
One, two, three, the steps were so easy with her. I became her friend, everything she's ever wanted in a man. I asked her about her father, about her best male friends, and learned what she was missing in her life. I become that man, I become her closest confident. I made sure to encourage every negative thought and feeling she has towards anyone else who was a trust figure in her life.
It
wasn't long until I built a symbiotic relationship with her; one
where she totally relied on me and trusted me implicitly. I laughed
as I isolated that whore. I cut off from every person she trusted by
giving her inflated opinion of her own self worth. My praise was
sweat honey on her lips. She trusted me, I was her “lover.”
I
took pleasure in finding out out what she has been in every
relationship she's had with a man. I searched for who she wanted to
be; what her mother figure was like and what she did not want to be
like herself. Become the perfect man for her to show love to, fed her
every desire and insecurity until her very essence craved me. I was
that perfect man for her to love both in how I treated her and what
she "needed" from me.
I made her feel like she completed me. This was when I told her that we both needed to be there for each other, that we were best friends, and were living a romance fairy tale together. Disgusting little slut felt so special, that all she wanted in her life was me. It was almost too easy with her, she fell into every trap and was all too willing to hate her friends and family. Ugly fat girls are always the easiest marks; their shattered little self esteem is like a ripe apple ready for the picking.
I guess they wanted to know that I wasn't just all talk. They asked me exactly how I did this and I explained to them the finer details of torturing a woman. A woman's feelings can be hurt far worse than you can ever hurt her body. It wasn't enough for me to just inflict physical pain on someone, I wanted to own them. There's more pleasure in someone being willing for you to abuse them and believe they deserve it, than there ever is in someone fearing you because you hit them with your fists. An artist uses his mouth, a brute uses his fists.
I started with Angelica one day at Sonny's house. Sonny used to be our pastor, and we often spent time there. She was infatuated with Sonny's roommate, a young man named Silas. I saw her sitting there on the couch, depressed, and I couldn't resist the urge to use her. I asked her about what she was feeling.
It wasn't long until I found out she had slept with Silas and he had used her. The opportunity to move in was just too much to me; I couldn't believe how lucky I was. I moved in next door to her in her apartment building as quick as I could; I was renting from my brother who owned a few houses. Angelica had been a tenant for almost a year now; her brother and sister in law were friends of ours that were living upstairs in another of James' apartments.
I started to hang out with her as her friend, cook her meals, pretend I even cared about her. It wasn't long until she spilled everything to me. Her mentally ill mother's abuse, her deadbeat father, depression over dropping out of college due to seizures. James had seizures as a child so I was really able to pretend that I cared; that it meant so much to me.
A few weeks later she had a terrible seizure and I made sure I was there for her. It wasn't long until I was able to take on the fatherly role for her and push our friendship past it's regular bounds and into a sexual relationship. The terror of a seizure and the havoc it wreaks on your mind makes you a soft target; you'd do anything to feel safe again and loved; like a little child holding a teddy bear. I used her.
From that point on it was just a matter of time as I isolated her from every friend and family member she had; her seizures got worse and I became the only person that could be there for her. I even encouraged her to do dangerous things and regulate her own medication; a foolish move even for the stupidest epileptic. All of this gave me more control over her life.
After I met all of her needs I was finally able to create the partner I wanted in someone; to show her the things I needed to feel "normal." Perversion, control, rage, and pain. Those were the things I needed to express onto her to feel safe and in control of myself; that's what I needed to stop the nightmares. I convinced her that doing these things for me was love; biting me, urinating on me, and letting me hurt and demean her however I liked. It was such a sweet relief to find someone who would let me do these sick things at will. I was in wonderland; it was a paradise.
They
asked me next what happened with the relationship and I had to
answer. I wasn't very proud of it, but I lost control over her with
time. I couldn't keep up the charade for long before her family
joined together and reached back out to her. She got too sick and I
got too violent.
She made the mistake of hitting me one day and
all I remember is a few brief pictures in my mind. Holding her on the
ground like one of the inmates at the prison I worked at,... choking
her in the air till she nearly died... and hitting her with all my
might after she hit me with a baseball bat. Nothing much more than
that, not that I can recall anyway. I liked how it felt to lose
control, but I didn't like how I wasn't able to remember things
afterward. The doctors took a lot of notes when I mentioned this, but
it didn't seem that important to me. Just another one of those brief
moments that I lost control.